


All mine

by imaginesandideas



Series: Roger Taylor one-shots [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Reader has body related insecurities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20806967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginesandideas/pseuds/imaginesandideas
Summary: You're dealing with some body issues that make you feel insecure. Roger makes sure to prove you're wrong about yourself.





	All mine

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a request: "idea is that the reader has self image issues and never takes her shirt off during sex. roger talks to her about it and reassures her that she’s is beautiful and loves her regardless of how her body looks. i think it would be super cute but at the same time it would be hot."
> 
> Originally posted on my tumblr (@imaginesandideas).

Roger continues leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck as you straddle him, fingers tugging at the hair on his neck.

Having Roger home always gives you a chance to get more domestic, spend more time together and not necessarily on partying. The halls of the apartment feel no longer so cold and lonely, since everything about him radiates warmth. His energy. His spirit. His lips. His hands as he squeezes your body underneath his own. 

You’re wearing just your knickers and a plain tshirt that serves as pyjama top, while Roger wears boxers as per every other Saturday morning that you are about to spend lazying in the sheets. You are getting a lot of those recently since the boys took a break off touring.

Roger was never really a homebody, but you’ve made him change his mindset a bit. He started to love those days when you didn’t have to leave early, much too early for him to notice your morning routine. 

On the weekends, or days off working, he forces you to stay in bed longer than usually, just so he has enough time to please you and make you beg for more afterwards. And then dazzle you with breakfast. Spoil you with lazy kisses all over your body, making you hungry for more.

His hands roam hazily, his eyes still wrapped in morning slumber. He lets out a stifled moan as you yank at his hair unconsciously.

You’re feeling him everywhere. His fingers so feathery like, yet full of capacity, the effects of his actions painted on your skin with flush redness. The veins on your neck just as evident as his, hearts racing in your own, indescribable rhythm with one another.

His fingers skillfully slip underneath the hem of your shirt, tracing lines up your sides, though you are too distracted by his beguiling kissing and groping. You don’t even realize when he pulls it off you, your arms coming up ever so naturally to help get the clothing out of the way, leaving you topless.

Head thrown back in ecstasy while he’s leaving open mouthed kisses, you only then feel goosebumps on your skin, soft wind coming from open window reaching heated skin on your back.

You feel icy shudder climbing up your spine and your eyes shoot open. You tense.

“_Ro-Roger, no, please._” your hands come up to his face, pulling him away from your chest, where his lips were leaving trails of kisses down the valley between your breasts. His expression represents utter confusion, lips parted in a round shape, pink and swollen. His brows formed in a frown, with eyes still a bit hooded. 

You try to push yourself up, covering your front with crossed arms, but his hands are quick to take you down by gripping your hips firmly.

“_Love, what’s-_“

“_Please, let me get my shirt back._”

“_Love._”

“_Roger please!_” tears are gathering up in the corners of your eyes, andyou have to force yourself not to let them fall down your face like waterfall.

You’ve felt embarrassed already, and tears would be a literal cherry on top of it all.

His grip loosens and you take it as a opportunity to get out of his grasp, immediately covering yourself with bedsheet before you reach to the floor for your shirt. Throwing it over your head, you let the unwarranted white cloth fall to the floor. Your lip trembles but a content exhale leaves your lips nonetheless. Closing your eyes you position yourself on his lap again, as if nothing happened. You seek to make up for abruptly stopped makeout by attaching your lips to his neck again, but he’s already going against it. You feel his fingers underneath your chin before he forces you to look him in the eyes. His whole expression is rejuvenated with tender sort of worry beaming from below his brows and tantalising lashes. You envied him those. You could only wish to have such piercing look in your eyes, the one you fell for instantly. You could only wish you were as complacent as he is, how content he always seems to be with whatever he’s up to. How he almost never lets anyone bring him down. Or how celestial he looks asleep on the bed, hair disheveled, his whole form molten in sleep, looking like ancient god of some sort, only fixed in sculpture. 

“_There’s nothing to be ashamed of love._” his voice is so endearing you could swoon in the moment. Overlooked tears stream down your cheeks to be swiftly caught by Roger’s gentle fingers. “_I love you. All of you my love._” Jaw trapped in the subtle grip of his palm as he places his lips on yours, so innocuously you practically feel your own heart stop for a brief moment. It’s all there - your doubts, months of built-up guilt and uneasiness towards him. The images of your fully exposed body taunting you like trauma you can’t let go of. It’s almost bitter when you swallow a mentally painful moan, but he’s there, coating your lips, tongue and soul with indescribable passion. He pulls back to kiss away the trails of your tears and lower to the underline of your jaw, making you giggle softly as his nose tickles your skin. You can sense him smile into to kiss.

“_My girl._” Another one closer to your ear. “_My terrific, excellent, gorgeous woman._” You gasp, stifling a loud moan threatening to escape your mouth when he bites just below your ear, leaving a blooming earring-like mark. His hot, sweet lips sealing it like invisible patch.

Involuntarily you close your eyes and allow yourself to melt into his touch, his praises, his gruelling kisses. Neck tilted eagerly. Eyelids heavy. You’re stripped down to his worship and soon you get rid of your shirt too. 

“_Glorious. Fierce. Gutsy. Fucking hot._” Every word sealed by reddish count on your neck and collarbones, while the arm wrapped around your waist keeps you in place. The other hand is holding your face carefully. Your own arms are resting on his shoulders, mind drowning in the lust haze.

His every breath and caress is so convincing, so inviting. You feel a wave of brashness sliding down your back and your hips buckle down, hands coming down to the hem of your vast tee. Before you even attempt to lift the material he stops you, hands coming down from where they rested to your hips. 

“_I don’t want to push you to do anything. I lo-_“ in a blink of an eye your lips crash in a carnal need.

Anchored by the love he’s feeding you with. 

Not long after you part, you manage to breathe out a “_Shut up already_” before he’s throwing himself at you, trapping you beneath him. His savvy fingers gently slipping under the cotton fabric, exposing your middle inch by inch. Suddenly your insecurities struck you again. Your body shudders ever so slightly, muscles tensing for a brief second before he leans down.

He knows.

He sees it in your eyes. His delicate, insatiable fingertips brushing against your skin. You’d focus on the flaws, on the tiniest defects you so expertly examine when alone in front of the bathroom mirror. 

But he’s not you. He sees you in a different light. In the light of your morning lovemaking, in the light of your evening dances in the kitchen, in the light of your afternoon smiles as you talk about your day, in the light of your warm body against his at night.

His desire filled gaze is glued to yours when his mouth lowers to your abdomen.

“_My love. **Mine**._”

His whole attitude is filled with the yearning you could almost get used to. But the softness he’s gracing you with, makes you unable to treat it like it’s about to be just regular sex.

You reach out and pull him in for another kiss. Both your lips are swollen by now, and you let your fingers tug at his hair enough to earn a throaty groan. All the hiding, all the worrying meant nothing in comparison to what you’re feeling as his lingering touch climbs up your sides. You know those fingertips far too well. How gentle they can be, despite their coarseness, the reason being years of intense drumming sessions and touring. Those calloused hands have given you most of the love and pleasure you’ve ever experienced in your life, and you wouldn’t trade them even for the smoothest pair. 

“_What’s on ya mind darling?_” he eyes you curiously. His hands are cupping your breasts now and you gasp at how your body temperatures differ. You reach out to move a bit damp strands of hair from his forehead. Your subtle side coming to the front as you caress his cheek.

“_You._” Roger shoots you a toothy grin in an instant before responding, his whole body hovering low above your own.

“_The feeling’s mutual love. Can’t bloody stop._”


End file.
